You Were There
by surrealgreen
Summary: Following a job Kazahaya says something he shouldn't have. Left alone, Kazahaya quickly gets into trouble. Will Rikuo save him this time?


You Were There

Kazahaya growled under his breath as he marched along beside Rikuo, irritated with his stoic, smirking partner. There were on their way back from a mission, and Rikuo was, as usual, gloating over the fact that Kazahaya had needed to be saved—again. _How was I supposed to know that there was a security system connected to the old painting? Most of the other objects we've taken were never even missed! And it's not like it's a Monet or anything,_ Kazahaya thought to himself. He was still chagrined over the fact that he'd frozen like a deer in the headlights when the alarms went off, which didn't help his irritation. Nor did the fact that, had Rikuo not been there, he probably would have been captured. He might have been grateful if not for a few well-placed remarks from Rikuo. _That JERK! He still thinks he's better than me!_

If Kazahaya was livid, then Rikuo was highly amused. He'd quickly dispelled Kazahaya's gratitude, as usual. The truth of the matter was that he much preferred the feisty, irrational Kazahaya spitting like an angry kitten to a meek Kazahaya. He was just so cute when he was sputtering with indignation! If Rikuo were a schoolgirl, he'd glomp Kazahaya in an instant. As his quiet, characteristically superior self, he restrained him self to an amused smirk. Ah, Kazahaya-baiting was his favorite sport.

It was when they rounded the corner of a block so sharply that Kazahaya ran into Rikuo that he finally exploded.

"Watch where you're going, you big jerk!" Kazahaya shouted.

"But you're the one who ran into me…Really, if you don't stop trying to find excuses to touch me, I'm gonna start worrying about the safety of my virtue from you."

"WHAT? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU…I WOULDN'T TOUCH YOU WITH A TEN-FOOT POLE! WITH YOUR ATTITUDE, WHO WOULD! I BET THAT'S WHY TSUKIKO LEFT…"

Kazahaya trailed off as he realized what he was saying, but it was too late to take it back. He thought his heart would stop at the look on Rikuo's face—a mixture of rage and pain. Kazahaya knew that, no matter how angry he was, he had no right to ever go there. For a moment of eternity, the two simply stood and stared at each other. Neither could believe what Kazahaya had said. Kazahaya half-expected to be hit—he was pretty much sure he deserved it—but Rikuo just turned and walked away without saying anything.

Somehow, Kazahaya wished that Rikuo had just hit him. He opened his mouth to call out to Rikuo, but stopped. What would he say? Sorry just wouldn't do it. As he watched Rikuo walk off, painting in hand, he felt miserable. He was so ashamed and, well, sad. Sad that he'd probably just ruined any slim chance he and Rikuo had to be friends. As much as he complained about the larger boy, both internally and out loud, some part of him respected Rikuo, even liked him. Maybe a bit more than liked. Not that he'd ever admit it, but the other boy was always there, always watching out for him. He may have teased and ridiculed Kazahaya about it, but he also protected him. Kazahaya didn't like needing protection—but he couldn't help but appreciate Rikuo. What kind of bastard would he be if he didn't? Rikuo protected him in all sorts of ways without having to be asked. Saving him from books that tried to eat him, keeping him from being caught on the few jobs they'd had where that was a problem, even protecting him in that boy's school. He hadn't really understood that last, at first. When Rikuo had insisted that they pretend to have a relationship and would only say that there were many reasons to do so. It wasn't until Nayuki, the friend he'd made at the school, revealed that he had been raped that Kazahaya began to put two and two together. As long as the boys thought that big, strong Rikuo was Kazahaya's boyfriend and protector, they would leave Kazahaya alone. They had worshipped him from a distance—but it hadn't had to be that way. They could have harassed him, or chased him, or even hurt him without Rikuo's warm, shielding presence. And Rikuo never asked for thanks, seemed to prefer to do without.

It was just so…frustrating though. Rikuo seemed so perfect. Everyone thought so. Kakei and Saiga trusted him, all the girls that came to the store thought he was sooo handsome. Rikuo seemed to have no weaknesses. Save perhaps one. Tsukiko. The girl in Kazahaya's visions, in Rikuo's past. The girl connected to friendly breakfasts and bloody rooms. The girl who was missing. Kazahaya was not the smartest guy in the world, he knew, but even he was smart enough to know that the bloody room meant she probably didn't go missing by choice. He knew that Tsukiko was a great source of pain for Rikuo. He couldn't believe how he had just thrown her disappearance in Rikuo's face. He hated himself at that moment.

He was so caught up in his self-recrimination that he didn't realize that he was slowly wandering off the beaten path, into a dangerous part of town. He didn't even realize he was crying. More importantly, he didn't realize he was being followed. It wasn't that surprising, really. Kazahaya was a very pretty boy, and small too. With tears on his cheeks and his eyes unseeing as his thoughts turned inwards, he was the perfect target. His shadow thought so too.

He called himself Azrael, the angel of death, and thought the name was quite clever. He tried to get others to call him that, as well, but they just laughed. They called him a wanna-be, said that he would never amount to anything. He was too much of a loser to succeed in business and too much of a wimp to succeed as a criminal. With his short, squat build he was no one's definition of good-looking or even intimidating. He certainly lacked the sinister beauty of death. Instead he looked something like a bulldog with his bow-legs and heavy jowls. At twenty-two he could easily pass for fifteen or twenty years older on a bad day. He wore his greasy black hair long in an attempt to look cooler, but it was too thin and looked rather ratty. His patchy beard didn't do him any favors either. But though he wasn't much to look at, he was strong. And he knew that he could prove to everyone that he could be something, he could be Azrael. All he needed to do was commit the perfect crime. And he'd just found the first element of that crime—the perfect victim.

He'd been surprised to see the boy wander into his neighborhood. While his clean, well kempt clothing (or at least as well kempt as any teenage boy's clothes ever are) he was clearly not homeless. But he lacked the dangerous edge that the gangsters, punks, and criminals who chose to stay in this neighborhood displayed. He was a little lost lamb—the perfect victim for the angel of death. His hair was a shiny light brown, cut asymmetrically, bringing attention to his pretty face. Oh yes, he was the perfect victim. His face was not just pretty; it had an innocence to it, and pain. His nose was fine and straight, his skin smooth, his lips full and soft. But it was his eyes that were most captivating. They were unusual, huge and amber-green, like the eyes of a cat, surrounded by thick lashes. At the moment, they shone with the tears that caught in his lower lashes and shown like dew on rose petals before slowly tracking down his sweet cheeks which were surely as soft as satin. His sweet little lamb had wandered into a den of wolves like a willing sacrifice—it would be rude not to take what he offered. The man who called himself 'Azrael' pondered just how far he should go with his sweet lamb. What should he do with the boy? Rape him, kidnap him, kill him? All of the above? First things first, he decided. His pants had been getting uncomfortably tight as he watched the kid, so he'd start by scratching that particular itch.

Kazahaya was preparing for a fresh wave of guilt when he felt a presence behind him. Surprised, he began to turn only to be grabbed from behind and shoved into a nearby alley. Stumbling over discarded beer bottles and other trash that he'd rather not know the details of, he hit the wall. Before he could react, he was roughly grabbed from behind and turned around to face his attacker before being shoved back into the wall. With his attacker's arms to either side, trapping him against the wall, he tremulously looked up into the man's face. His eyes were so dark, full of lust, greed, and envy, just as his hearty. This man wanted, he coveted. He would steal, lie, and cheat and always feel that it was justified by his greed. This man was a monster pretending to be mediocre, just waiting for the chance to break out of his average shell and do true evil. Kazahaya had the sinking feeling that he had just provided the man with that chance.

Without preamble, the man forced his large, rough mouth on top of Kazahaya's much smaller, softer one. Surprised, Kazahaya let out a small sound of protest, but refused to open his mouth further, gritting his teeth to keep out the tongue trying to force its way in. 'Azrael' didn't let himself be bothered by the boy's resistance. After all, that was to be expected, even enjoyed. He simply punched the boy in the gut. Surprised once again, Kazahaya opened his out as the breath was forced out of his lungs. 'Azrael' took the opportunity to force the boy's mouth all of the way open, tasting the boy's sweet tongue. Opening his eyes as the boy whimpered, he met Kazahaya's tearful, frightened gaze. Azrael was almost shocked at the thrill of lust that shot through him at the look. In response to that thrill, he grabbed the boy's wrists and pinned them to the wall as he started grinding his hips into the boy's stomach.

As if awoken from a drowning dream, Kazahaya snapped into action, wiggling, kicking, trying to break free. His position, unfortunately, left him little leverage. His attacker's hips pressing him to the wall held him fairly still, and he couldn't kick the man standing as he was. Nor could he free his wrists. The man seemed unconcerned with his struggles; in fact, he roughly pulled Kazahaya's hands above his head and held his wrists with one hand as the other began roaming up and down Kazahaya's torso. Soon the man's hand was up his shirt, touching and caressing him roughly enough to leave bruises. When the hand trailed to his back and down, dipping into his jeans, Kazahaya did the only thing he could think of. He bit his attacker's tongue, still in his mouth—hard. With a wordless shout of surprise the man pulled his head back, but he never let go of Kazahaya. Instead, he used his free hand to slap Kazahaya twice. Dizzied by the force of the blow Kazahaya did not struggle for a few minutes as the man began to touch him again, mouthing his neck this time.

Kazahaya snapped out of his dizzy lethargy when he felt his attacker's hand unbutton his jeans. Trying to summon the strength to fight his attacker off again, Kazahaya opened his mouth and shouted for help.

"NO! GET OFF!"

"Shut up! You're wasting your breath. The only people around to hear you yell are those that would come and watch for fun. If you aren't quiet, I might just let them take a turn, huh?"

In response Kazahaya could only sob. It was so frightening, knowing that, at any moment, he would be hurt, badly, and had only himself to blame. He was cruel to Rikuo, he was the one who wandered off into a bad part of town…If only he could go back in time and take what he'd said back. None of this would be happening. He wouldn't have hurt Rikuo. _Rikuo…_

A loud snapping noise rent the air and Kazahaya's attacker froze. Surprised, Kazahaya looked up into his attacker's face only to find it pasty white. The man's eyes had widened and had a strange look to them. He followed the man's gaze down to his arm and was surprised to see that it was broken. Not just broken, but badly broken. The bone had torn muscle and skin. It was quite a gruesome sight and must have caused his attacker a lot of pain. But how had it happened? Kazahaya was too dazed, scared, and traumatized to put two and two together until a voice came from the entryway of the alley.

"Take your filthy hands off of him."

"Rikuo…"

The man who called himself Azrael turned. There stood a large young man. He was very tall, with broad shoulders, and his body seemed to exude strength. But it was his eye's that caught his attention. The young man's eyes seemed to spark with anger, narrowed and glaring. Frightened, wondering how the young man might have caused his arm to break, 'Azrael' yanked Kazahaya's wrists down and spun him around, using his body as a shield.

The sight of Kazahaya pressed against the wall, crying, as the bastard molested him had set Rikuo's blood boiling. He'd never used his gift to hurt another person before, but breaking that bastard's arm had felt great. Seeing Kazahaya's slender body pressed against his bulky attacker as a kind of shield, Rikuo was only further enraged. His anger at Kazahaya was entirely forgotten as he focused his rage and broke the attacker's other arm.

'Azrael' cried out and stumbled backwards. He sank to his knees in the corner of the alley, trying to cradle his arms to his chest and shaking with the pain. And with fear. He didn't know how, but somehow the angry young man had broken his arms without even touching him. He must be a demon…or an angel. A real angel, come to protect the little lost lamb. 'Azrael' shuddered in terror. He had been so sure that he was strong, tough, a force to be feared. And now he felt as frightened and weak as a small child, helpless in the face of the young man's wrath.

Seeing that Kazahaya was stunned and in shock for the moment, Rikuo carefully walked past him and stood before his assailant, staring down at him with his furious gaze.

"So, you think you're something special? That you're tough? Or maybe that you had the right to touch him? Well, you're not, and you don't. The next time I see you touching something that isn't yours, I won't just break your arms. I'll take them off."

Ignoring the now whimpering man, Rikuo walked back to Kazahaya, who was still standing frozen and unseeing. Gently cupping the boy's face in his hand, he tilted his head back and looked into his eyes.

"Kazahaya," he called gently.

As if Rikuo's voice were some sort of catalyst, Kazahaya's silent shock broke. He looked up and his face crumpled as he started crying. His eyes were already bloodshot and swollen from crying earlier, his lips bruised. On his cheek a large bruise was forming around a small cut, his short was torn, exposing his stomach and chest, and his pants were unbuttoned. Carefully, Rikuo straightened Kazahaya's clothes as best he could before simply holding the smaller boy for a few minutes, letting him cry and murmuring wordless, comforting sounds. Feeling movement he looked down to see Kazahaya's mouth moving. No sound was coming out, but Rikuo could easily see that he was repeating one word over and over again. _Sorry, Sorry, Sorry, I'm Sorry…_

Rikuo made shushing noises, all thoughts of his earlier anger erased. He hadn't been as angry as he could have been, anyway. He knew Kazahaya didn't mean it and didn't mean to say it. He'd never even really meant to leave Kazahaya alone, knowing how trouble-prone the boy was. He'd simply trailed the amber-green eyed boy from a distance. Unfortunately, soon after they entered the unsafe area of town he'd lost sight of the smaller boy. He'd immediately started looking, but hadn't had any luck until he heard a familiar voice yelling. It was pure luck that he hadn't wandered too far from the area where he'd lost Kazahaya. When he'd found the alley where Kazahaya was being attacked, he'd been floored by his reaction. Rage and possessiveness.

Rikuo was brought back to the present when he felt Kazahaya's legs give out. Catching the smaller boy, he swung him up into his arms and began carrying him bridal-style. The smaller boy let himself be carried as he clung weakly to Rikuo's shirt, still sobbing brokenly. Kazahaya was exhausted both mentally and physically and starting to feel the soreness of his body. The bruises on his face, wrists, and torso, the scrapes on his back from where he hit the wall. By the next morning he would be one big mass of bruises and quite sore. Emotionally he began recovering as he left behind shock and fear and entered the emotional numbness that follows a draining bout of emotion. Being carried by Rikuo was soothing. Rikuo's strong arms surrounded and protected him and his broad chest was warm. The sound of Rikuo's heartbeat lulled the exhausted boy to sleep.

Awkwardly carrying the painting, which he'd propped up outside the alley, with the hand of the arm under Kazahaya's knees Rikuo walked swiftly home, carefully cradling the boy close. He didn't give a damn if he got some weird looks; he was simply worried about Kazahaya. He'd never seen the boy lose it like that before. At least it didn't look like the attacker had gotten very far. Still, it had unexpectedly hurt to see Kazahaya crying so brokenly, like a frightened child. He would have expected Kazahaya to be shouting and sputtering, hopping around like the angry kitten he so often appeared to be. Kazahaya vulnerable was an unsettling sight.

As he neared the drugstore, Rikuo gazed down into Kazahaya's face, tearstained and bruised and beautiful. This almost reminded him of the time he'd brought Kazahaya home. He'd been vulnerable and in need of rescuing then, too. But then Rikuo had carried him slung over his shoulder like excess baggage. Somehow, he couldn't imagine doing so now. At some point, Kazahaya had become precious to him.

Reaching the drugstore, Rikuo was not surprised to find a worried Kakei waiting for him. Later he would determine if Kakei had known what would happen when he sent them out. Kakei had been willing to take to many risks with Kazahaya's safety in the past. But if Kakei had known what would happen this time and hadn't warned them—that was going too far. This wasn't like keeping Kazahaya from falling out of a tree or even carrying him home when he passed out from a cold. This was serious, and it could have been a lot worse. What if Rikuo hadn't gotten there in time?

While Rikuo was musing, Kakei was busy treating Kazahaya's wounds. Saiga walked in as Kakei was rubbing ointment onto his scrapes in bruises. It was clear that the man wanted to make a perverse remark, but a dark look from Rikuo and a warning look from Kakei assured him that it would not be appreciated. Shortly after Kakei finished treating Kazahaya and he and Saiga left the two boys alone. Rikuo fell asleep sitting beside Kazahaya's bed.

Kazahaya stacked medicine on the shelf, trying to be as precise and quick as possible. He still wanted to show Kakei that he could be as good a worker as Rikuo. But even as he tried to keep his mind on his task, he felt his gaze steal over to his fellow worker. Things had quickly gone back to normal after the incident last week. Neither of them had mentioned the attack or what Kazahaya had said. Rikuo had made it clear with a few well-placed remarks that neither thanks nor apologies were desired. His smirk was back as was his superior attitude. Kazahaya, in response, reacted with his usual accusations and sputtering anger. The truth of the matter, however, was that he didn't really mean it. He didn't hate Rikuo. He couldn't get the image of Rikuo standing at the mouth of the alley like some knight in shining armor. He knew that it was no coincidence that Rikuo was there. Despite how angry he had to have been he had followed and protected Kazahaya. One of the most frustrating things about Rikuo was that he couldn't understand what the larger boy was thinking or feeling. His poker face was simply too good. Kazahaya honestly thought that the other boy disliked him—but then, why would he save him all the time. Why would he protect him even after what he'd said? Kazahaya hadn't had many important people in his life. Only one, really, and he didn't have her anymore. He didn't really know how to make friends, how to deal with new people. His insecurities about it made Rikuo's teasing seem ten times worse than it actually was. Perhaps he'd simply been misreading the other boy the whole time.

That night when he went up to the apartment at the end of his shift, Rikuo found supper ready and waiting for him. It was even his night to cook. Dinner was his favorites, as well. He raised one eyebrow in surprise but didn't say anything. The anxious look on Kazahaya's face was too vulnerable. He was trying to do something nice for Rikuo. Rikuo didn't want this. Cooking his favorites was something Tsukiko used to do for him. He always told himself that he teased Kazahaya to keep him from getting sappy or mopey, but the truth of the matter was that Rikuo was trying to keep the boy at a distance. Caring for Kazahaya brought back too many memories of Tsukiko, and he couldn't take the chance of feeling that way for someone else and losing them too. But to reject Kazahaya's gesture now would be to reject Kazahaya, and he couldn't bring himself to do that. So he ate his meal with as much grace as he could muster, not sure what to do. Kazahaya cleaned up without comment as well. As the night wore on the atmosphere became a bit tense. Surprisingly enough, it was Kazahaya who broke the tension.

"Don't expect me to do this every night."

"Aww, just when I was getting used to it. You make a decent housewife."

"Not as good as you, though. You're a much better cook."

Rikuo was surprised to hear the smaller boy tease him back. Usually Kazahaya got angry at the first tease. Rikuo looked at the other boy and noticed that, though he tried to hide it, Kazahaya was anxious again. Rikuo's reaction clearly meant a lot to him. So Rikuo smirked with less harshness than usual.

"Maybe. But you can learn."

The rest of the night passed pleasantly, with no fights. A record for them. But as they got ready for bed Kazahaya did the unexpected one more time. Rikuo was leaving to go to his room when Kazahaya came up behind the tall boy and hugged him.

"Kazahaya, what…"

"Thank you. Because you were there."


End file.
